


The Christmas Prince

by danpuff



Series: Christmas Romance - 2020 [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blind Date, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Romance, Flowers, Harry is Confused, Hogsmeade, M/M, Matchmaking, Mistletoe, Post-War, Self-Indulgent, Snape is a jerk, he is also a closet romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:35:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27780880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danpuff/pseuds/danpuff
Summary: Harry and Snape are (kind of) set up on a blind date. Romance and chaos ensues.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Series: Christmas Romance - 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2037853
Comments: 47
Kudos: 283
Collections: Snarry Christmas 2020





	The Christmas Prince

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in the same world as [The Perfect Tree](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27698726), a Percy/Neville story, and [Holidate](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27839839), a Draco/Ron and Ginny/Pansy story, but all 3 can be read on their own.

The average witch or wizard struggled to make any sense of Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop the night of December first. The normally cramped, chaotic shop was more cramped and chaotic than usual. Dozens of tables filled the space, two chairs apiece, each with a single lit candle and an empty vase for flowers. Red and green tinsel garland draped down the walls with fairy lights flitting between them. A few of the fairies escaped to investigate the mistletoe that wiggled enticingly overhead. Some even decorated the upper half of the large Christmas tree that was stuffed into the far corner. They avoided the lower half, as two of the tables were half lodged into its branches. 

The tree trembled excitedly, causing several red and silver baubles to crash onto the tables, shattering wine glasses and knocking into faces and sending one shrieking witch into the lap of another’s date. More baubles fell when one wizard tried to straighten the table. One was nearly caught by Madam Puddifoot herself, but it bounced out of the palm of her hand and right into the horn of the gramophone perched precariously on a half table beneath the window. It muffled the sound of Celestina Warbeck’s classic “Dear Valentine, It’s Christmastime”, which was a marked improvement in Harry Potter’s opinion. 

So distracted by the commotion were Harry and his fellow diners, that no one noticed the happenings near the shop’s entrance. No one paid any mind to Severus Snape Confunding Draco Malfoy, Harry’s intended date, and the matchmakers, Lavender Brown and Pansy Parkinson. No one saw him pluck the red poinsettia, the twin to Harry’s, from Draco’s hand. No one saw the spell that rearranged the list of names and flowers that Lavender had been consulting. 

In fact, Harry paid no mind at all to Severus Snape until the man sank into the seat opposite him. 

“No,” Harry blurted out. 

Snape lifted one imperious brow. “Lovely to see you, as well, Mr. Potter.” The red poinsettia joined Harry’s own in the vase. 

“Sorry,” Harry said. A quick glance at the other tables sought red poinsettias, on the chance of an awkward mix up. Surely Snape hadn’t been meant for him. “Er, this is supposed to be - well, a date.”

“Believe me, Potter, I am well aware of what this debacle professes itself to be,” Snape replied testily. 

“Er, sorry, Snape. Just…I mean, who would think to match us?”

“The _love experts_ you graduated with.” 

Before Harry could snipe back, a harried Madam Puddifoot arrived to take their orders. Sadly she had no liquor to speak of, but she did keep them swimming in wine until their food arrived. Harry could feel Snape watching him as he looked around the room once more. He half expected Fred or George to pop up and declare the whole evening an elaborate prank. Half hoped they would, really.

Once their food arrived, Snape spoke up. “I see why your friends put you up to this, Potter. You must be very lonely indeed, if this is how you treat all of your dates.” 

“You’re one to talk! You’re here, too!” 

Which, while true, Snape had a point. Unwelcome guilt trickled in for how ungracious he had been so far. He might have apologized had Snape not opened his mouth again, tone dripping with scorn.

“Yes, but the first word out of my mouth was not ‘no.’ In fact, I do recall saying how lovely it was to see you again.”

“ _Sarcastically._ ”

“Was it?”

“Look, you - Come on, Snape. You know how you are!”

“Oh, do _enlighten_ me.”

Harry was not being fair, and he knew it, and he hated that he knew it and couldn’t (or wouldn’t) stop it. Snape was always a bastard, and had always been one. Whatever better qualities he had, they did not erase this fact. It was unfair of Harry to not give him a chance, but it was also unfair of Snape to pretend he didn’t know just why Harry was so apprehensive about being set up with him. 

“You - oh forget it.”

“Say it, Potter. I’m unpleasant. You dislike me. Whatever mild hopes you had for the night were dashed the moment you laid eyes on me.” Snape’s tone was blunt. There was a twitch in Harry’s jaw. Shame churned in his gut as he fought to hold Snape’s merciless eyes. “Though one does expect better of our _savior_.” Harry frowned here, prompting Snape to smirk. “I’ve yet to insult you. Though you are imbecilic enough, you may not notice when I do.” Harry could not help but snort in amusement. “Ah, there we are.”

“You’re still a right git, you know,” Harry teased. The tension had snapped beneath the unexpected humor. 

“Your flirting leaves much to be desired.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “What about you, then? You haven’t been…date-like.”

To Harry’s surprise, Snape looked at him. Really looked at him. Dark eyes took their time exploring Harry. From the unruly tufts of hair, to his cheekbones, lingering over his mouth - Harry’s teeth worried at his lip in response - over his shoulders and down his arms, down to the fingers nervously drumming against the table. Then, in reverse, tracing their way back up to meet him. There was heat in that gaze, and Harry felt its touch like a caress on his skin and he nearly shivered in response. 

“You look very beautiful tonight,” Snape said quietly. The sincerity in his tone was loud enough.

“Oh,” Harry said. Warmth bloomed up his neck and face. His eyes fell away shyly, without his permission, and he struggled to lift them once more. He half hoped to find mockery in the sharp, pale face, but found none. Harry could not put a name to what he was seeing, only that it wasn’t harsh or cruel or cold. “Um, thank you.”

“There is no need to thank me, Mr. Potter.” 

He did not know why, but his face grew even hotter at this. Harry cleared his throat and picked up his fork. His thoughts were scattered - running off in the fruitless attempt at making sense of Severus Snape.

Thankfully, the nice act did not survive the night. When Harry poked and prodded at his pasta, Snape barked at him to stop playing with his food. He made a snarky comment about Harry’s festive holiday jumper. He critiqued the food where Madam Puddifoot could hear him. And whenever a person or pair approached with hopeful smiles, Snape ran them off with a well-placed sneer, or snide remarks for the more daring. They bickered about both instances and fell into fuming silence. 

Then, to cap it all off, Snape insisted on paying for them both! As if it was a real date! And had the gall to snarl, “I may not be a romantic expert, _Harry_ , but I can afford a simple dinner for two at a tacky establishment.” 

“I didn’t mean to imply you couldn’t!” Harry snapped. 

Still, as they left the warmth of the shop for the bitter cold of night, Harry knew it could have been worse. If Snape was rude to the other patrons, it had stopped strangers interrupting their meal. And if Snape had been stubborn and insistent, it had been kind of him to pay. And he had complimented Harry. Called him beautiful, of all things.

And now he stepped closer before Harry could turn away. He stood tall and resolute, as though steeling himself for battle. “May I walk you home?”

“Why?” Harry asked suspiciously. 

“Proper date etiquette.” 

It had to be a prank, all of this. The twins would spring up any moment now. If not them, then Snape had been taking lessons and this was his brainchild. Harry scrutinized Snape for a moment, hoping for a clue and feeling rather lost. Finally he nodded and they headed down the sidewalk side by side.

An oncoming group of witches brightened at the sight of Harry, mouths open in greeting, and Harry was not proud of the way he half cringed back and leaned nearer Snape. Harry could not see the man’s face, but he did watch as the women blanched and stumbled off of the sidewalk and into the street, hastily passing them without a word. Harry snickered and playfully bumped his shoulder against Snape.

“I think I can see why they put us together,” he joked. “They knew I’d need a bodyguard.” 

“The man who defeated the Dark Lord hardly needs a bodyguard.”

“I dunno. You spent a fair bit of time protecting me, didn’t you?” Harry pointed out. Snape inclined his head but did not speak. Harry turned left onto Lionheart Lane. “Was only a joke, really. Only…Why _do_ you think they paired us?”

“A miserable prank on a miserable man,” Snape muttered.

“Oi!” Harry laughed. “I thought I was beautiful.” 

It was embarrassing to say, and even more embarrassing when Snape replied, “You are.” 

The man just looked at him. Harry kicked at a rock in the street. “Hmm. A beautiful imbecile, is that it?”

“What every man wants, I’m told.”

“Sure seems that way sometimes. Good to know you’re as shallow as the next bloke.”

“Is that why you came, Mr. Potter? A sea of shallow fanboys left you wanting more?”

Harry shrugged and kicked another rock. “Loads of people are interested in - y’know, the ‘Chosen One.’ It’s almost a breath of fresh air when they care more about the Pride of Portree than the war. But it always comes back to - “ Harry clammed up then and shoved his hands into his pockets. Years of experience with Snape taught him not to expect any sympathy. Not that he wanted sympathy precisely. It was not the lack of sympathy so much as the expectation of mockery. 

“It is difficult to find a connection when others have prior expectations of you,” Snape said after a pause. 

“Yeah, that,” Harry said, surprised at having his feelings so understood. “Is - is that why you came tonight?” 

Hesitation, then, “I came to stop Narcissa Malfoy haranguing me.” 

“Oh.” Harry tried not to laugh. Maybe it was the idea of Snape having a friend. Or maybe the idea of Snape being bullied into a blind date. Neither was fair. “Yeah, Ron and Hermione pushed me into it. Joke’s on them, I made them come with me.” He never did see who either had been paired with. He’d been more focused on trying to find out who his _real date_ was. “Well, this is me up here.”

His new home was a charming cottage in a row of charming cottages, all equipped with white picket fences and cheerfully colored doors. Perhaps Harry should not have shown a first date where he lived, but this was Snape. Whatever else Snape was, he could be trusted with Harry’s safety and privacy. 

With this thought, Harry lingered by the fence and tapped his fingers against the white painted wood. “Tonight wasn’t so bad, you know. I still wonder why - do you know why they chose us? Really?”

“Opposites attract.”

“Do they?” Harry peered up curiously as he asked and his breath caught in his throat at the look on Snape’s face. 

Snape shifted closer to him and his eyes - those _eyes_ \- dropped down to his mouth. Like he…like he might kiss him. Harry tensed, overly aware of their proximity, aware of the trembling, confused tension between them. “They do.”

Harry’s eyes briefly fell to Snape’s mouth. The lips were thin and pale, well accustomed to frowning or sneering. Did they know how to kiss, he could not help but wonder, and mentally cursed Snape for putting that thought in his head. “Right. Yes. Alright. Erm - goodnight, then.” 

Before Harry could turn away, Snape spoke. “I will be in Hogsmeade tomorrow. _Chaperoning_. If you would care to…meet for lunch.”

“Oh. Um.”

Harry was gaping like a fish, he knew it. He could feel it. And he was very aware of how ridiculous he looked, but he couldn’t fix it yet. He couldn't fix it because it sounded like Snape had asked him out, and that was not possible. Only he watched Snape’s face, how it twisted with irritation, and what might have been a tinge of disappointment. Snape turned away from him before Harry could really look. “Goodnight, Mr. Potter.”

Harry must have lost his mind when he blurted out, “Noon? Three Broomsticks?”

Snape looked over his shoulder at him. Harry nervously ruffled his hair. Snape nodded sharply before sweeping away into the darkness. 

“What the hell am I doing?” Harry muttered to himself.

* * *

Neither Ron nor Hermione owled or Flooed Harry the next day, so he could only assume their own dates had gone poorly. Or spectacularly, Harry thought bitterly. Curious as he was about who they had been paired with and how things had gone, he had no desire to relay the events of his own evening. 

It still puzzled him, why Snape of all people had been chosen as his date. More puzzled still that Snape had actually treated it as a date. 

Lavender and Pansy took the subject of love very seriously. They would not risk their new business venture on a prank. They might take a risk on love itself, but what had they seen that made them think there was hope for love here? They had seen Harry and Snape’s animosity back at Hogwarts. 

Snape, on the other hand, was a Slytherin. He could have arranged their meeting somehow. But why? For revenge? For a laugh? It was one reason among many to cancel their plans, but at five past noon he walked into the Three Broomsticks.

Whatever was going on, Harry wanted to get to the bottom of it. Even if it meant playing along.

“You’re late, Potter,” Snape said waspishly.

“Yeah, uh, sorry,” Harry said as he shrugged out of his coat. The Warming Charms in the pub made even his jumper quite stuffy. 

“Do you have an endless supply of those?” Snape eyed his jumper.

Today’s was navy blue with a grinning snowman in its center. Every few minutes it would wink, or do a jig, or shiver. “One for every day of the month,” Harry replied cheerfully. Truth be told, he had worn this solely because of the comments Snape had made the night before. The flying reindeer pattern hadn’t been that bad, had it?

“Hmph.”

“What? You don’t think it’s beautiful?” Harry joked.

“ _You_ are beautiful. Your fashion sense is not.”

That tripped Harry up. He had not expected Snape to stick to what he had said. He could almost think the man meant it. Harry ruffled his hair. He knew it was sticking up in all directions, just like it always did. He knew he was short and scrawny. And he still wore his unfashionable round glasses. His looks had never been what attracted people to him. 

The idea of someone caring about something other than his name, even if it was his looks - 

Madam Rosmerta bustled over to take their orders. Per request, she rattled off an extensive list of holiday specials. Harry chose the gingerbread butterbeer, and only remembered to tack actual food onto his order when Snape requested a gillywater and a sandwich. 

“Children are so easily distracted by sugar, I’ve noticed,” Snape commented. The tone was dry, but Harry sensed his amusement. 

“Oh, shut it,” Harry laughed. 

Snape said nothing more, but let his gaze travel around the pub, then out of the window and into the streets. Keeping an eye on students, Harry was sure. Harry squirmed and boredly tapped his fingers on the edge of the table. It was a relief to not have Snape’s attention on him, but at the same time - well, Snape had asked him here. The least they could do was talk, or something. 

Once their drinks arrived, Harry spoke up. “This is awkward.”

“Yes, I know,” Snape snapped. 

“Why did you invite me?”

“I’m a glutton for punishment.” 

This was confusing. There were moments when there seemed to be _something_ there - something warm and interested. Then there were moments like these, when Snape was cold and snarky and looking at Harry like dirt on his shoe. Harry wasn’t sure why this should bother him as much as it did. Instead of responding, he slumped in his seat and slurped noisily at his butterbeer. He could feel Snape glaring at him, but he kept his own gaze on the window, though he paid little notice to the passersby or the festive decorations. He only knew the buzzing in his ears and the jangling of his nerves and the internal chanting of _why why why?_

“Why did you accept my invitation?” Snape asked.

Harry shrugged, but did not look up at the man. “Dunno. Someone thought we were a good idea.”

“But not you.” 

“Well, you did call me beautiful,” Harry quipped. “And you did scare off my fans. It might have been the best date I ever had.”

Which was, sadly, true. His experience thus far had been an ill-advised date with Cho Chang, several uncomfortable dates with admirers, and a short-lived relationship with Michael Corner. Nothing serious. No deep connection. Nothing at all like last night, however strange it had been.

“That is likely the most pathetic comment I’ve heard from you yet,” Snape said.

Harry frowned into his butterbeer. It was not a nice thing to say, but Harry had to agree. It was a bit pathetic. 

Harry swiped his finger through the whipped cream in his drink and popped the finger into his mouth. He did not think about what he was doing until he caught Snape watching him. There was a flare of heat in those dark eyes and his stomach fluttered in response. Harry grinned sheepishly as he pulled his finger free. 

“I can’t have been bad company, can I?” Harry ventured. “You did ask me out again.”

 _This is a date, isn’t it?_ he couldn’t quite ask.

“Fishing for compliments?”

“Sort of have to with you, don’t I?”

“You do not. I complimented you last night unprovoked.” 

Harry smiled. It was a soft, shy smile. He knew it was, and he hated it. Nothing sly or seductive or smooth, just more evidence of how silly he was. Because Harry thought of Snape calling him beautiful again, and - well, it was just nice, wasn’t it? It was _nice_ , even if he didn’t quite believe it.

Their sandwiches were delivered then, and Harry found himself glancing frequently at Snape as the man dug into his sandwich. In fact, he got the feeling that Snape was purposefully not looking at him now. Was he embarrassed, maybe? Harry picked at his own sandwich. This lunch was providing more questions than answers thus far.

Daringly, Harry nudged Snape’s foot beneath the table and waited for the man to look up at him. “I think you were a better date than I was. I never complimented you once, did I?”

Snape was so hard to read. He stared unflinchingly at Harry. Was it his imagination, or was the man stiffer than he had been? Colder. If this was a date, if he was interested in Harry…was he worried? Knowing Snape’s history with Harry’s father and godfather, did Snape expect Harry to mock him? 

In his panic, the words fell out of his mouth. “I always thought the Prince was clever, you know.” Harry dropped his hands into his lap to surreptitiously wipe his sweaty hands on his trousers. “And funny. And - and bloody brilliant.” He stared down at his sandwich. That sounded pathetic, didn’t it? Even now, all these years later, he was still obsessed with that bloody book. And it was so impersonal, wasn’t it, to speak of the Prince rather than Snape himself? “Then - Well, after…Your memories! And, well. You’ve heard me.” Harry’s face was red, he could feel it. One could cook an egg on his face. Embarrassing. “You - You’re brave. And strong. Probably the strongest person I know. And - and good. Deep down, at least.” He tried for a teasing smile, but Snape was only staring at him, still with that indecipherable look. He let his smile fall away and he cleared his throat. “There, then. That’s better than ‘beautiful’, isn’t it?”

“Is this a competition, Potter?”

“Call me Harry.”

“Very well. Is this a competition, _Harry?_ ”

Harry’s mouth twitched. “I like the way you say my name.”

“Is that so?”

“I like the way you say everything.”

“My, my. You really are determined to win.”

Harry laughed nervously. “You should step up your game, sir.”

“I suppose you may call me Severus, as you are not without your charms.”

Harry smiled properly. “Severus.”

Conversation became more natural then, and Harry didn't have to think so much. Severus told him the story of how he had been roped into chaperoning that day. (Or, _part_ of the story, as Harry would find out years later that Septima Vector had begged Severus to take her duty only after Severus manipulated her into doing so. It was quite the Slytherin scheme, pulling at strings, all to avoid outright volunteering for the job. All for an excuse to see Harry. Harry would, at that point, find the tale very hilarious and romantic, but was now only mildly amused by what he heard.) Severus spoke with relish of how easily students were kept in line when they feared him, and how he fully expected them to behave today, though he admitted he would be glad for opportunities to punish them. The whole confession, while mildly irksome, prompted eruptions of laughter from Harry, who did his best to muffle the sound on principle. Not to mention his annoyance, and flattery, at the fans Severus warded off, seemingly without realizing he was doing it. Harry watched yet another young student wander off in a fret as Severus waxed poetic about detention. 

“You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch,” Harry sang quietly.

The reference required an explanation that Harry awkwardly gave. Which, in turn, led to Harry catching Severus up on his own life. Everyone knew he was seeking for Pride of Portree, and while they all knew of his recent move to Hogsmeade, no one knew about his break from the team. Or his current plans to help open the new branch of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, and the odd job here and there helping with holiday events in the village. 

“Does Pride of Portree not pay you enough?” Severus asked.

“They pay fine,” Harry said uncomfortably. “Only, I won’t seek forever, you know. I love it, but it’s not meaningful work. Being an Auror… _that_ had meaning, but…you were right. I’d seen so much violence as it was. I don’t want to fight for the rest of my life.”

There was a flash of surprise in Severus’s eyes and Harry blushed. Upon learning that Harry had joined the Auror Corps without sitting his NEWTS, within weeks of the war’s end, Severus had torn into him. While convalescing at St. Mungo’s, no less! Harry had been furious at the time, and had stayed with the Aurors for over a year and a half before calling it quits. However rude Severus had been, he had been right. 

Equally as impactful had been the Prophet’s announcement of his departure: _“War Hero, Hero No More.”_ It had stung, and even now Harry was torn about it. His whole purpose had been to play the hero. While he did not want that to be his life, he also did not know what his life was without it. As much as he loved Quidditch, he felt adrift. There was an impermanence about his place on the team. Like he was wasting his time and talents on a hobby rather than anything worthwhile. 

“Just…” Harry continued. “After everything I’d done, everything else seems so…tame. And...useless.” 

Severus snorted. “I think you’ve been useful enough for one lifetime.”

“I guess.”

“However, if you wish to be useful, you may assist me in wrangling the fiends running around the village.”

“Severus, are you pawning off chaperone duties on me?”

* * *

They squabbled over the bill again. Harry thought it only fair to take his turn paying, but Severus would not hear of it. They sat in tense silence while Madam Rosmerta went to fetch his change. And the silence was enough for confusion and panic to set in. Was this an actual date? Had he been flirting with Snape? Had he confided in him just now, in things he had only ever spoken of to his closest friends? 

Harry bundled back into his coat, gloves, and scarf before they left. And it might have been them offering warmth as they trekked through the brisk breeze. But it might have been how closely Severus walked alongside him, and how aware Harry was of his every move. His heart gave a cheerful kick when Severus’s fingers brushed his.

“So, what do we do, then?” Harry asked. “Stop them snogging and vandalizing and such?”

“Any rule breaking, any merrymaking,” Severus agreed.

Harry laughed and called him the Grinch again. Then imagined Severus in lurid, avocado green robes and laughed all over again. He hummed the tune of “You’re a Mean One Mr. Grinch” while Severus dealt with braver fans, a group of bold Gryffindors drawn to one of their own. The tongue lashing chased them halfway down the street. Harry did his best to look disapproving, to tramp down on the fond amusement. Honestly, it was nice to not have to deal with fans. And truth be told, from Harry’s experience, Severus could have been a lot meaner than he was. 

“Look, Severus,” Harry said, digging his elbow playfully into Severus’s ribs. “They’re having _fun_.”

“How many points is that worth, do you think?”

“Hmm. Ten points to Ravenclaw?”

“ _From_ Ravenclaw.”

They received curious glances from the excited students and busy shoppers. With no displays of affection to scandalize them, they carried on with their errands, leaving Harry and Severus to one another’s company. Severus spent more time inventing cruel punishments than he spent delivering them, and Harry did his best to steal the man’s attention away from harmless misbehavior. 

By the time Harry made his way home, whistling to himself, he wondered at the fact that he’d had so much fun with Severus Snape.

* * *

On Monday, Harry was busy with the new storefront. Fred and George were hustling to have it fully ready to open within a week or two, just in time for last minute holiday shoppers. It was only by the end of the day that the twins found time to tease him. “Heard you had a date with Snape!” 

“It must have been Parkinson’s idea,” George chortled. “She would find that funny.” 

“So, how was it, then?”

“Well…Snape is, er, he’s Snape still,” Harry said lamely. While not an actual lie, it was misleading. Because he knew what the twins were asking, and the implication was not the full truth. Snape was not different in any way Harry could name, other than the strange flirtation, and he certainly wasn’t about to explain that. Not to anyone, least of all the twins. 

Tuesday after work, Harry had more time to consider his situation. And to wonder (hopefully? fearfully?) whether Snape would ask him out again. He pushed these questions aside when he met Ron and Hermione at the Three Broomsticks, only for his friends pry for details. 

“And we, er, met up for lunch on Sunday, too,” Harry confessed.

Ron openly gaped while Hermione frowned. 

“I dunno if - if maybe he’s…up to something,” Harry suggested. 

“Oh, Harry,” cautioned Hermione. “Don’t let him play with you. Just leave it be, alright?” 

Which was sound advice, of course. Harry might trust Snape with his life, but with - (his heart? What a laugh) - _friendship?_ Did he trust Snape not to make a fool of him? 

But then, Harry never found reason to heed sound advice.

So on Wednesday evening when he walked down to Neville’s tree lot, he was pleasantly surprised to find Severus there. A large red and green sleigh pulled by winged horses was parked out front, and Hagrid was doing his best to fit several large trees onto it while Severus watched from the shadows. 

“H’lo, Hagrid!” Harry greeted and suffered through a rib-cracking hug. Harry winced and rubbed his abused ribs as he walked up to Severus. “Are you stalking me?”

“I’m here on Hogwarts business,” Severus casually explained with a nod to the sleigh (which he was definitely not helping with.) 

“And you happened to be here today. After I told you my plans?” Harry pointed out.

“You do not own the rights to Wednesday tree shopping, Potter.”

“Call me Harry.”

“Pest.”

“Harry.”

“Hindrance.”

“Harry.”

“ _Harry_.”

Harry grinned. “There you go.”

The tree lot was cheerfully lit by floating white orbs that, upon closer inspection, resembled snow globes. Snow swirled within the orbs as they rolled through the air, casting their soft glow over the area. Red and white ropes surrounded the lot and divided it into sections. There was a steady stream of customers, all geared up for the holidays. The festive air fed into Harry’s own high spirits. He rubbed his hands and looked around for his friend. “Hey, Neville! This is all yours?”

“Oh!” Neville said, turning in surprise. Neville appeared briefly happy to see Harry, which quickly turned to anxiety when his eyes landed on Severus. “S-s-sorry. Um. You said - oh - um, yes, these are mine. Erm. Hullo, P-p-professor.”

“Longbottom,” Severus said coldly. He eyed the trees around them disdainfully, but since he kept his ruder comments to himself Harry only snickered and elbowed him. Neville gulped and continued to stare fearfully at Severus. Behind them Hagrid was reentering the lot, humming his carols.

Harry would have liked to follow Hagrid around. He could catch up with his old friend and see what sorts of trees he would bring with him to Hogwarts. Instead Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets to stifle the urge to touch his companion, and peered up at him with a small smile. Severus looked down at him, and the look in his eyes was not cold or disdainful. In fact it chased the lingering chill from Harry’s skin, like a warm stroke down his spine. 

“You’re helping me, yeah?” Harry asked.

Severus gave a put-upon sigh, but followed Harry without hesitation into the sea of trees. He made no rude remarks about the childish glee with which Harry ran from tree to tree. He made no critiques about the holiday sweater (ivory, with stripes of green trees) Harry exposed, coat unzipped to counter the Warming Charms. He had nothing nasty to say to Harry at all, which Harry half expected to hear all night. 

It was nice, for a bit, even with the silence between them. It was not quite comfortable, but a pleasant sort of awkwardness. A different tension than normally existed between them. Harry was free to admire the trees, extra choosy of which would be the first in his new home. Harry was in such a good mood, he didn’t mind the occasional interruptions. He waved to and greeted familiar faces, and offered smiles and nods to the unfamiliar. Severus was less forgiving of any interruptions.

One mother carried her crying daughter away. Harry refused to look at him. “Right Prince Charming you are.” They continued their path onward, though the air between them was particularly icy. “Do you have to be so rude?”

“Rude is interrupting a stranger’s evening with trivial requests,” Severus drawled. “I was setting boundaries.” 

“Rudely.”

“Integral part of my personality, I’m afraid.” Severus grabbed hold of Harry’s arm, and as Harry had been moving forward, the motion swung him back around. Severus grabbed hold of Harry’s other arm to steady him. “I am not a nice man, Mr. Potter. I do not have spare smiles for the masses, and I do not store rainbows and sunshine in my back pocket. I certainly have no desire to see you bombarded by the demands of your _adoring_ audience. Certainly not when I’ve already laid claim to your time.” Severus was glaring down at him, and Harry glared right back. He was not so easily cowed by this man. The hands on his arms tightened, then dropped away, as though Severus did not trust himself to be touching Harry while so incensed. “There are a great number of things I will do for you, Harry. Becoming your ‘Prince Charming’ is not one of them.” 

Harry breathed out steadily. “No. You were always more of a Warrior Prince, anyway.” He turned and continued the path they had been on. After a few seconds, Severus followed after him, but stayed half a step behind. Watching him. Harry could feel the weight of that stare on the back of his neck. “The war’s over, you know. You - you don’t have to be on the offensive all the time.” 

Severus said nothing, but that was fine for Harry. It was difficult to reconcile all of the good Severus had done when he was so tetchy with others. It made Harry feel guilty for nearly liking him. 

The way Severus had phrased it, as though he were protecting Harry rather than lashing out without cause - that gave him pause. Unless it was some ploy to win his affections. Or an excuse for his bad behavior. 

Maybe Hermione was right. Maybe this was a bad idea. 

A worse idea sprang to mind when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. “Look!” Harry grabbed Severus’s arm and tugged him back. To their left was a roped off section where a bit of greenery repeatedly ran itself into an invisible wall. Other bits of green hovered behind it, watching. “Oh, I know what that is.” Harry walked towards the red roped area and took a closer look. Yes, those were sprigs of mistletoe. “C’mere, Sev’rus.” 

The invisible wall gave way when Harry stepped forward. A ward to keep wayward greenery at bay and not potential customers, then. The space was filled with displays of various natural decorations. Garland, wreaths, flowers, pinecones, and even fruit. Sprigs of holly and mistletoe floated overhead, unable to fly past the invisible ceiling. 

The holly was all gathered in one corner, twitching now and again. The mistletoe chased each other around, some even drooping down to examine some of the other plants. When Harry entered, a few flew over to investigate him. They all froze when Severus entered. 

Harry calmly turned to face him as Severus lingered over the threshold. “They’re matchmaking mistletoe,” Harry explained when Severus finally stepped inside. “They sort of gravitate towards people who are attracted to each other, or who could be compatible.” 

He did not look away from Severus and Severus did not look away from him. Severus strode forward, slowly but surely, and the mistletoe sprang into action. Overhead a line was formed, stretching between the spot over Harry’s head and over Severus’s. The line grew shorter and fatter the closer he got until all of the mistletoe were clustered over them both and Severus stood toe to toe with him.

Harry swallowed. He didn’t know if he was shocked or relieved or frightened. All three, maybe, and maybe more. Severus studied him closely. 

“I didn’t know if you - if you were just…playing with me, or,” Harry began, but the words faded away when Severus shifted closer. Their robes brushed. Severus’s fingers were cool where they cradled his chin, as was the thumb that brushed gently across his lips. Harry’s breath faltered. His lips parted. His eyes closed against a sudden wave of dizziness. Then - Severus’s breath was hot on his face and - hot on his mouth when the thumb fell away, replaced by lips.

It was barely a kiss, so soft it was, and his lips tickled with need for more. Their shared air fogged his brain. “You do want me,” he whispered. This time Severus kissed him properly - careful pressure, soft caress. Harry gripped Severus’s arms to stay steady, and Severus aided this effort by sliding his arms around his waist. 

The tenderness was the worst of it. He felt - he _felt_ \- it was too much, too confusing. It was a relief when Severus deepened the kiss, when he pulled Harry closer. Still too slow, too steady, screamed too much into the silence. The wordless confession rang in Harry’s ears. 

Then, suddenly, the lot glowed red, then green. The invisible dome was made visible by the flashing lights and bells rang out to mark the hour. Severus’s teeth caught Harry’s parting lips and Harry shivered. Severus moved his hands to Harry’s hips as Harry fixed his lopsided glasses and patted uselessly at his wild hair. Severus was staring at his mouth and leaned in to kiss him again as Harry laughed. He placed his hands on Severus’s chest and reluctantly pushed him back. 

“Closing time.” Harry’s voice shook a bit as he spoke. “Never did get my tree.”

“We’ll have to come back.”

* * *

On Thursday, Harry was glad for the rush to ready the shop. It was good to stay busy and not think about what didn’t bear thinking about. Every so often Harry would touch his lips and very determinedly not think about why. About memory’s touch that made them tingle. And he would volunteer for a new task to avoid blurting out that he and Snape had kissed. Kissed! And it was good! And Harry felt - he _felt_ \- 

Instead of sitting around feeling things he did not want to feel, Harry spent an inordinate amount of time situating the bell above the door just so. It wouldn’t ring, at first, but then it wouldn’t stop ringing. Then he added the extra bits that would spit confetti at customers. But the charm and gone wonky and rather than a cheerful rainfall of Christmas confetti, it vomited a bucketful on him all at once. Then dribbled a bit of glitter for good measure. 

“Bugger,” Harry grumbled. He kept his eyes squeezed shut to very carefully shake out his hair. It would be just his luck to get it all in his eyes. Once he felt safe enough to open them he knocked the confetti from his glasses and put them back on. 

He had not noticed Severus's approach, and startled when he saw the man standing there. Severus stared down at him witheringly. Harry winced at the bits of red, green, and white paper stuck to black robes. There were even a few sparkles of glitter here and there. 

“Oh, sorry. I - Oh - “ A bouquet was stuffed into his arms by the irritable man. A bouquet of crimson poinsettias. The very flower that had brought them together, Harry thought with a smile. 

“Not a word,” Severus warned.

“Alright,” Harry agreed. His free hand grabbed the front of Severus’s robes and he pulled him into the space between the joke shop and the music shop. Pulled him away from confetti and glitter and watchful eyes, and right into a very happy kiss. Happy, turned passionate, when Harry’s arms flew around Severus’s neck and Severus pressed him against the brick wall. 

“Thank you,” Harry breathed when they parted. 

“I said no words,” Severus sniped. There were _feelings_ swimming in the black eyes that stared down at Harry, and the sight of them eased his own nerves. This wasn’t so bad if Severus was just as lost as he was. 

“Sorry,” Harry grinned. “And, er, sorry.” His right hand still clutched his bouquet behind Severus’s back and he tugged them back to himself as he used his free hand to brush the confetti off of Severus. More of the stuff had gotten on him from Harry. 

Severus stepped back from him, grumbling about careless, inconsiderate Gryffindors. Harry hid his smile in the flowers and inhaled their perfume. He’d never gotten flowers before. He’d never thought it was something he wanted, but he liked that Severus had done something for him. 

Then Severus smartly brought out his wand and spelled away the detritus from first his, then Harry’s robes. Which was such an obvious idea that Harry felt silly all over again. Not only did the confetti remove itself from their persons, but gathered itself into a neat pile that hovered beside them and was soon encased in a shiny bubble. 

“Deliver this to Misters Weasley,” Severus instructed.

“I’d say no, only…I think they’ll actually like it,” Harry agreed. “Lunch? I can take a break soon.”

“No, I’m afraid I must be getting back. I have a class at one.”

Harry grinned. “You mean you came all the way out here to - “ Before he could finish speaking, Severus swooped in to kiss him. And kiss him and kiss him. Kissed him until he was breathless and couldn’t string two words together, and only then did Severus sweep dramatically away.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Fred and George laughed as the bubble burst over them, raining confetti and glitter over their heads. “Good one, Harry!” they chorused. 

“That wasn’t from me, that was from Severus,” Harry laughed. “He didn’t much like the Confetti Shooters.” 

Fred and George exchanged a look and repeated, “Severus?” 

Harry was very, very glad he’d put his flowers away first.

* * *

On Hagrid’s invitation, Harry joined a group of professors for Friday night drinks. He and Severus sat side by side, but exchanged not a word. Severus didn’t speak at all but for curt answers to direct questions. Harry chatted with Hagrid and Flitwick and Sprout. And he watched Severus out of the corner of his eye - watched him sip his firewhisky, watched him watch the crowd, watched him frown at the outbreak of drunken caroling. 

After, Severus walked Harry home and kissed him in front of his door for ten minutes. 

Early the next day, Harry met Hermione in London for a bit of Christmas shopping. Hermione had her parents to shop for and both needed to shop for Arthur. And when Harry saw an ugly sweater with the Grinch’s face on it, he casually draped it over his arm as a joke gift for Severus, and thought of what to get him as a serious gift. 

Hermione eyed the sweater over his arm. “Fred and George say you’re dating Snape.” 

“Fred and George need to keep their mouths shut,” Harry grumbled.

“Well, are you?” Hermione demanded.

“No. Maybe. No, definitely not,” Harry said.

Hermione frowned at him grimly.

“Okay, it’s just, we have dinner sometimes, alright? Is it so bad we get on now?” Harry asked defensively. 

“Not bad, no,” Hermione said. “Strange, certainly.” She eyed him shrewdly. “Are you sure they’re only friendly dinners?” 

Harry flushed, but kept his lips pressed firmly together.

“Harry.” 

“Hermione.”

“Harry!”

“Look, alright, we - erm - kiss sometimes.”

Hermione’s brown eyes grew wide and wild. “ _You’ve been kissing Snape?_ ”

“Shut - Hermione, keep it down!”

“Harry, _you’re dating Snape!_ ”

“We’re not…Okay, maybe they’re dates. I dunno. He hasn’t said anything! Well, he said - never mind that. Only…we’re only having a bit of fun, Hermione. It’s - well, I dunno what it is, but it’s not that.” 

“Harry,” Hermione said pityingly. “You’re dating Snape.”

“No. No, I can’t be.”

“Well, you have dinner and you kiss. That sounds an awful lot like dating to me,” Hermione said. And she didn’t even know about the flowers. Or the flirting. If it even was flirting. That would be weird, right, Snape flirting? 

Which Harry thought a lot about when he had dinner with Severus that night. They bickered through the first course, which was cheering. But then they were speaking animatedly by dessert, which was concerning.

And Harry couldn’t stop looking at him. At first with a critical eye, because he knew Snape wasn’t very good looking by traditional standards. He was still hook nosed, still thin lipped, still greasy haired. Only Harry didn’t mind it so much. It was just Severus, wasn’t it? And he had those eyes, black as coal and just as hot. And that voice - that voice was a spell all on its own. He was talking about a potion, of all things, one he was working on. And Harry hung on every word, though he didn’t understand even a quarter of what the man was talking about. 

By Sunday Harry was wondering if he should come out and ask Severus what was going on. He envisioned terrifying scenarios in which Snape professed his undying love. And worse ones of Severus laughing in his face. And Harry really did not want to examine the pang in his gut just thinking of that. If Severus really was just stringing him along…

So Harry ran around his house and put the finishing touches on his Christmas decorating. Even with spells the garland didn’t hang so neatly, and his tree drooped beneath the weight of what was probably too many ornaments, and the tinsel kept getting tangled with the fairy lights. The last bit was either very violent or very sexual, Harry honestly couldn’t tell. 

Then the doorbell rang and when Harry answered it, he felt very violent and sexual things himself when Severus scowled at him and shoved a hard glass vial into his chest. Harry rubbed the sore area as he looked down at the little green vial with several little snowdrops gathered inside. The snowdrops all raised themselves up to spit bits of very cold snow into his face. Severus’s scowl deepened and Harry immediately shifted his stance, on the defensive by that look. The snowdrops were waving around in the vial, spraying yet more snow into the air. 

They were flowers. A little bouquet of little flowers charmed to produce actual snow. Snow from snowdrops. And it was so sweet, no wonder Severus was so tense. 

“Do you want a drink?” 

Some of the tension bled out of Severus as he hesitantly nodded. Harry opened the door wider to let Severus inside. 

The man was too tall and sharp, too black and white, too stark and too dramatic a presence in his warm, cozy home. Severus was too many things, really. Harry’s hands shook as he placed the snowdrops on the side table. They shrank away from the lit candle, so Harry blew it out. When he turned, Severus was still hovering near the door, looking around the living area with a critical eye. 

“I could make some mulled wine, if you can stay a while,” Harry blurted out before Severus could say anything mean and ruin his own nice gesture. 

“I can stay.”

Barely five minutes later, the wine was heating on the stove and Harry sat on the counter nearby. Severus stood between his legs kissing him, and Harry didn’t need the wine because he was drunk on that. Severus smelled of musk and spices, and his hair was soft and clean beneath his fingers, and Harry couldn’t get enough of any of it. 

It was Severus who, thankfully, remembered to stop to tend to the wine. Harry watched him and touched his lips as he asked, “Severus, are we dating?” 

Severus stared at him. It was not a blank stare, or a nice stare, but a stare that clearly told Harry what he thought of his question. Though it didn’t stop him saying, “You’re an idiot,” as he stepped back between Harry’s legs. And he kissed Harry again before he could argue the point or ask further questions.

* * *

When the Hogsmeade branch of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes opened Monday morning, Harry bought hot cocoas for the staff to celebrate. Customers swarmed into the place, and Harry ducked out just as fingers pointed his direction. He walked aimlessly for a bit, and though the air was cold, warmth shot straight to his toes just thinking about mulled wine on Severus’s tongue, and warm fingers slipping beneath his shirt to rest on his lower back. Severus never had answered his question, but Harry had been too blissed and distracted to care. 

Only it mattered now when he was popping into the bookstore, wondering if he should get a gift for his friend or for his boyfriend. Or maybe a gift for the enemy that called him an idiot and kissed him silly. 

Hermione was easy enough to shop for. Any thick book Harry didn’t understand two words of would do. Even if she didn’t like it, she would be gracious about it and appreciate the thought. Severus, though…

Well, Severus was a prick, and why would Harry want to date him anyway?

Still, he lingered over a section of magical theory tomes. One looked particularly sinister and its cover was blood red dragon leather. Harry flipped through the pages and when he didn’t understand two words, he figured it was promising. And when he imagined Severus’s tiny scrawl in the margins, he set it on top of Hermione’s book and went to check out. 

(He thought about adding a new quill and ink at the register, but decided that would be too telling.)

Bag in hand, Harry stepped back out into the cold and strolled leisurely towards Neville’s tree lot. He waved at Luna, but did not stop to talk, as she was with a customer. He did stop to chat with Oliver Wood, and wondered if it would be cheating to ask him out for lunch, and if Severus would care if he did. Which was silly.

Sillier still when he was stopped by Percy Weasley, asking where Neville was, to wonder about the various Weasley brothers. Were the twins seeing anyone? Or Charlie? Molly still had her hopes on him and Ginny working out, and neither had had the heart to tell her that they were gay. Maybe she wouldn’t be so upset if he dated one of her sons. Surely Snape wouldn’t care. He just called him an idiot and refused to answer questions. 

And he brought Harry flowers and scowled as if it were Harry’s fault he was suffering such an indignity. 

Harry was in slightly better spirits when he found Neville by the flowers. The snowdrops, to be precise. These were crafting snowballs, much as his had been when he left home that morning. He laughed when a miniature snowball hit him in the nose, and laughed more when Neville started and he had to catch him. 

“Alright there?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, sorry. Was daydreaming,” Neville chuckled.

“Right. Well, Percy’s looking for you,” Harry said slyly. Because while he knew Percy was single, he had the feeling it would not be for long. Not that Percy would have factored in, anyway. “Want me to bring him back here?”

Neville glanced fearfully up at the mistletoe and Harry did his best to bite back a smile. Percy might not be for Harry, but he was for someone. Much like how Severus wouldn’t be for just anyone, but he might just be for Harry. 

Harry began to look at the other plants when Neville left, but Neville soon returned to grab a vial of snowdrops. “Do you mind bringing these up to Luna? And ask her to hold them for me?”

“Sure. I have some like this, you know!”

Which was a stupid thing to say, because of course these were the same type of snowdrops. Severus probably bought them from Neville. But Severus was not here and could not make snide remarks about his intelligence, and Neville was much too kind to do so.

Neville only smiled. “Yeah, I wondered if they were going to you.”

Harry blushed and ducked his head and couldn’t stop his smile this time.

* * *

On Tuesday Harry had drinks with Ron, who bluntly asked, “Are you seeing Snape?”

Harry resisted the urge to fidget. “Why would you ask me that?”

Ron’s brows furrowed. “Is that a yes?”

“That would be a bit weird, wouldn’t it?”

“A bit, yeah.”

For the rest of the week, Harry tried to distract himself. He successfully finished all Christmas shopping. And he decorated the outside of his house for the contest in his neighborhood. He volunteered more at Weasleys’ Wheezes, and helped Luna make more wreaths, and helped Madam Puddifoot dislodge furniture from her massive tree, and cooked dinner with Hermione. 

But then he would look at his poinsettias and his snowdrops, or he would have a sip of mulled wine, or he would glance at the red leather book and the green sweater folded on top. And he would think of long slender fingers wrapped around a quill, jotting notes into margins or scathing criticism on essays. He would think of the mind that crafted such dark insults, and clever spells, and perfected potions - a mind that also thought of him. He would think of dark eyes that caught the slightest imperfections in sliced dandelion root, that would spot the difference between navy blue and midnight blue - eyes that looked at Harry and saw…saw…saw something worth seeing, he supposed. Saw something beautiful. 

He would think of the man strong enough and brave enough to return to Voldemort time and again. The man who had spent decades atoning for his mistakes. Years upon years as a pawn in someone else’s game, a weapon in someone else’s hand. A man strong enough and brave enough to ask Harry for a date, and to bring him flowers, and to _try_ \- to put so much effort into - 

It was too much effort for a game. Severus could make a fool of Harry in a thousand and one ways before resorting to this. And not even he was this cruel. 

So perhaps Harry dwelled on Severus longer than he meant to. He was feeling more content the time he received Severus’s owl Thursday night. _Dinner tomorrow. Eight P.M. Apollo’s. Do not be late._

Harry sent a short missive back stating only: _Pick me up like a proper boyfriend and I won’t be._  
  


* * *

At a quarter to eight, there was a knock on his door. Harry checked his reflection nervously. He’d given his glasses a thorough cleaning, so not only could he see properly out of them again, but the shiny black frames shined. He wore his nicest outfit - or at least the nicest of his holiday jumpers. This one was dark green with shimmering silver snowflakes. He had already switched between it and the maroon one with the gold ribbon-and-bow design several times in the past hour. Which meant switching trousers, as well, since the khakis went better with the maroon, and the dark gray better with the green. 

“Bugger,” Harry sighed, tugging the hem of his shirt. He looked like a Slytherin in these colors. 

“Cheer up, dearie. He’s not much of a looker himself!” the mirror piped up.

“Hey!” Harry exclaimed. He then patted the top of his head, trying to, if not straighten his hair, at least make sure it wasn’t sticking up quite so much. 

“They make a potion for that, you know,” the mirror suggested.

“Yes, I know!” Harry snapped. He’d actually impulse bought Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion earlier in the day, though he hadn’t quite mustered up the courage to actually use it. Maybe he should have. 

There was a second knock on the door and an impatient, “Potter!” from the other side.

“Grumpy fellow, isn’t he?” The mirror asked.

“Oh, shut it,” Harry snapped and rushed to open the door. Of course, he hadn’t grabbed his winter coat and he jerked back once he had the door open and the gust of cold wind reminded him. “Oh, I forgot…”

He trailed off because Severus was staring at him. Just…dark eyes trailing from head to toe and back up again. And he didn’t say a word. And he made no move to hand Harry the bouquet of red-and-white striped flowers in his hands. 

“…my coat,” Harry said and licked his lips. “Severus?”

Severus blinked and spots of red appeared on sallow cheeks. “Harry.”

“Kiss me.” 

Severus threw the bouquet to one side, but had drawn his wand and caught them with a Levitation spell before they hit the ground. His free arm wrapped itself around Harry’s middle and pulled him close. Harry was being kissed quite soundly before he had time to be impressed. Severus pressed him into the door, using him to press the door into the wall. Harry wound his arms around Severus’s neck, hands in his hair, and hooked one leg around his hip. It was all rather undignified until Severus adjusted his grip and hauled Harry further up the door until he could wind both legs around him comfortably. 

This was all a lot further a lot faster than Harry thought. And while his mind was telling him to slow down, his body was telling him to charge ahead, especially when Severus began kissing down his jaw and to his neck. 

“C-cold,” Harry gasped. And it should have been, because the door was wide open and it was snowing out, and Harry was only in a jumper. Really, he was feeling rather warm. Rather too warm. 

Then Severus nipped at his ear and Harry whimpered and squeezed his legs tighter around the man’s hips. But then Severus rasped out, “We’ll be late,” and reluctantly set Harry back on his feet. 

“Um…we…reservations?” Harry managed to pant. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Severus snapped. “We agreed on a time.” 

“Right.” 

Severus stared at Harry, who was still pressed against the door, and the look in his eyes was so hot that Harry’s knees felt rather weak. With this inconvenience, he Summoned his coat to him, though the coat rack was only two steps away. Severus directed the floating bouquet his way as Harry shrugged into his coat.

“These are for you.”

“Great, thanks! Um, what are these called?”

Severus sneered. “’Candy cane’ amaryllis.”

* * *

“He brought you flowers?” Hermione repeated. 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were seated at a table in the Diagon Alley library. It was the best meeting place for anyone who wanted to spend time with Hermione. Most of their table was covered in books, with a small area available for Hermione’s note taking. Ron had a newspaper to hide behind while nibbling on his hidden snacks. Harry’s head was buried in his arms on top of a book.

“Yes,” said Harry, voice muffled because he did not bother to lift his head. “And he pulled out my chair for me and it was _weird_. And he made fun of me for my holiday jumpers.”

“That is really weird, mate,” Ron said.

“Then we argued for twenty minutes about how much of an idiot I was in school, and how much of an arse he was, and still is,” Harry finally lifted his head to properly explain. “We had to stop because they threatened to kick us out. Then he glared at me for ten minutes while we waited for dessert. Then he _fed me dessert_ . He just - he _fed me_ . And I _liked it_.” 

“Barmy, mate,” Ron said.

“It was great. I wanted to strangle him and then I wanted to snog him silly and then he walked me home.”

“Aww,” said Hermione.

“And then! And _then_ I told him he was a good boyfriend, and he told me I was stupid and he was no such thing!” Harry fumed. “So we shouted outside of my house for a bit, until the neighbors came out to shout at us.”

“Oh dear,” said Hermione. 

“So he left in a huff,” Harry said. “But I was still angry.”

“Oh no,” Ron said.

“Yeah. So I Flooed him.”

“Harry, you didn’t,” said Hermione. 

“Yup. I Flooed him and he let me in and we shouted some more, and he never did answer my question,” grumped Harry. “But it was after curfew so when we calmed down, he walked me around the castle and showed me all of the decorations. It’s so beautiful, and I loved it, and he knew I would love it, damn him.”

“Erm,” said Ron. 

“He won’t say if we’re dating, but I think we might be,” Harry said miserably. 

“Off your rocker, you are,” said Ron.

“Harry, that’s - “

“Yeah, I know, it’s mad. But I think. Well, I think I feel better about things. Because we fought, like properly fought. And - well, I’m glad we made up. Or, we sort of made up. But I think the fighting made me feel better,” Harry admitted. 

“Oh. Um.”

“He was shouting right in my face and I realized I was in love with him and it was awful,” Harry said in a rush.

Silence. Then - 

“You WHAT?” shouted Ron.

“Ronald!” hissed Hermione. “Harry...are you sure you - “

“Hermione, I’m really not sure of anything,” Harry snapped just as the librarian walked over to fuss at them.

* * *

For lunch, the three friends Flooed to the Burrow. Hermione chatted nervously to fill the silence, an inelegant attempt to break through Ron’s awkwardness and Harry’s brooding. Mrs. Weasley was much more successful when she rushed in to greet them with warm smiles and warmer hugs. 

“The whole family’s here!” Mrs. Weasley happily announced. “Even Charlie’s in town, you know. He took two weeks’ vacation time for the holidays. So rare to have all my kits in one place these days.”

“Christmas has come early this year,” agreed Mr. Weasley. He gave his wife a kiss on the cheek and led them all to the table and tent outside, the only spot there would be room for everyone. 

So while Hermione and Percy gave their best attempt at discussing their respective hopeful research and ambitious plans, Christmas talk overtook the group. Ginny had brought Draco along for lunch, and seemed intent on dragging him to Christmas Day festivities, though it seemed to make Draco himself and the rest of the family deeply uncomfortable. Harry and Ron exchanged meaningful looks that had less to do with Draco being a Malfoy, and more to do with their certainty that both Ginny and Draco were very, very gay. (Ginny, at least, was. Their mutual gayness had led to their mutual breakup, after all.) (And Harry did not want to think too hard about the envious and interested looks Ron shot Draco’s direction.) 

“And when are _you_ going to bring someone home, Charlie?” Mrs. Weasley demanded.

“Mum,” groaned Charlie.

“What about us?” Fred and George demanded.

“You’ve found no one special in Romania?” Mrs. Weasley probed. 

Looking from Charlie to Ginny to Draco, Harry felt many things at once. The desire to help get Charlie out of an uncomfortable situation, for one. And while he had his doubts about the genuineness of Ginny and Draco’s relationship it did stir envy in his gut. Not the covetous envy in Ron’s face, but a longing to have his own Slytherin at his side. If the family was hesitant about Draco, they were at least polite. 

“Can I bring someone?” Harry asked. 

“A special someone?” Ginny teased. 

“Is it? Are you seeing someone, Harry dear?” Mrs. Weasley asked. Harry did not miss the concerned way she looked between him and Ginny, as though she still hoped for reconciliation, even with Ginny’s supposed boyfriend at the table. 

“Yeah. Can I bring him?”

“Him?” repeated Mrs. Weasley blandly. 

Which, he hadn’t really thought any of this through, had he? Harry took a large bite of his sandwich and shrugged in what he hoped was a casual manner. “Yeah.” He was out to Hermione, Ron, and Ginny, but he hadn’t announced it to anyone else. Not hiding, really, but not _open_. There had never been anyone serious enough to warrant openness, before. 

“Tell us about him, Harry!” Fred and George encouraged.

“Leave him alone,” Ron said.

“Is it someone we know?” Fred asked.

“Should we bring extra shampoo?” George continued. 

“We promise not to put dye in it.”

“No promises about the glitter.”

“He really seemed to like the glitter.”

“Oh, knock it off,” Harry said, torn between being offended over the shampoo joke and amused at the idea of Severus with glitter all in his hair. Maybe he wouldn’t completely murder them if it was Slytherin green. “Yes, you know Severus.” 

“Severus?” repeated Mrs. Weasley. “Severus who?”

“Come now, Mother,” Percy said haughtily. “Don’t know many Severuses, do we? Severus Snape, of course.” 

“Of course,” repeated Mr. Weasley. 

“You knew about that?” Ron asked.

“Of course I did,” Percy said. “Very obvious, aren’t they?”

“Are we?” Harry grinned.

“Wait, wait,” Bill said, raising his hands to stall the outbreak of commentary. “Harry and _Snape?_ ” 

“The one and only dungeon bat,” Fred said gleefully. 

“Harry?” Ginny looked and sounded as concerned as her mother. Harry pushed his plate away, suddenly not hungry. 

“He’s twice your age,” Bill said. 

“He’s still evil,” George said.

“Threatened to shove our confetti cannons up our arses if we pointed them at him again,” Fred continued. 

“Oh, and the one about choking us with our glitter bombs,” George added. 

“He said he’d skin me alive if I even _thought_ glitter his direction,” Fred said. 

Harry snickered despite himself. The amusement did not last long. Ginny, Fred, and George all managed a few more ranting words about their nasty old professor before Hermione and Mrs. Weasley shut them up. It was enough to see the serious looks exchanged between Bill and Charlie, and the mutinous looks of Ginny and the twins. 

It made him sick. Harry wanted to defend Severus and make them all understand, but all of the good in Severus was too precious to share. He held all of that goodness cloaked beneath sarcasm and scowls, and Harry could appreciate all the more how generous Severus had been in showing himself to Harry. 

They might never know his romantic, passionate nature. They might never understand that his cruelty was as often protective as it was sadistic. They would certainly never understand the parts of him that mirrored the darker parts of Harry. Harry wasn’t sure he would want them to.

“He’s going to be around for - for a while,” Harry said as steadily as he could. 

“Well...Of course. Of course, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said. Her eyes were sad, but she managed a smile for him. “You - you bring Severus along then.”

* * *

“Pardon, Harry. I do believe your butterbeer has been spiked with Babbling Beverage.”

Severus eyed him blandly across the table in the Three Broomsticks. Harry kicked his leg. 

“You heard me, you git. I want you to meet my family.”

“Your family is dead.” 

Harry glared at him. “The Weasleys are my family, and I want you to meet them.”

“I assure you, Potter, I’ve met every last Weasley alive today.” 

Harry grasped his fork and imagined throwing it at the man’s head. He wouldn’t actually do it, but it was fun to think about. “I want you to meet them as my - “ Remembering their fight over the word _boyfriend_ , he paused, then shook his head and dropped his fork. “Whatever you are.” 

“Do tell me, Potter. Just what do you think I am?”

Because Harry’s options were shouting at him (again) or hexing him in his stupid face, Harry very calmly (shakily) stood up and walked out of the pub.

* * *

Neville had asked Harry to help Luna close the tree lot that night. After walking around the village on his own, his anger mounting, Harry decided to join them early. It was fun, listening to Luna talk about all of the creatures attracted to the lot and helping her craft wreaths between customers. It was also cute to see Neville fretting about his first big date with Percy. Neville rambled on, unsure that Percy even liked him that way, or if it was even really a date. As if the pair of them hadn’t been mooning after each other for weeks now. 

Their path was so clear. Harry envied them that. Just when Harry thought he had matters sorted with Severus, the man would throw him right back into questioning everything. 

Though he envied Neville, he was also thrilled for him. Neville’s luck in the dating department had been as bad as Harry’s. Only Neville went into his dates more optimistic than Harry, and was ultimately morose following their disastrous ends. Percy clearly adored him and, while Harry didn’t see the appeal, Neville obviously felt the same. They would have a sweet date and Percy would not hesitate to label things nice and neat for Neville. 

“You look great, Neville,” Harry assured one last time. He was no fashion expert, as Severus had assured him over lunch (he still didn’t see what was wrong with today’s jumper, cream colored with gingerbread men all over), but he thought the purple and gray outfit was fine, and he’d even done something to his blonde hair. Just what he’d done, Harry wasn’t sure, but it looked different. Maybe? Probably. 

“Oh no,” Neville said, looking down at his watch. “I should change. I knew I should have brought the white one. I might have time, I might - look, I gotta go, just - “ But he Disapparated before finishing his sentence. 

Harry laughed. First date jitters. Harry would have to swing by tomorrow for all of the details. For now, he focused on helping Luna. He watched the till while she helped customers, and when customers lingered too long or were too chatty, Harry smiled and very firmly did not wish Severus was there to scare them off. 

By eight, the last customers reluctantly departed, their interest in Harry overcome by Luna’s oddity. She kept suggesting ways to befriend bloopblips while Harry counted the till and bit back his laughter. Luna’s way of driving off the masses was both kind and funny, if unintentional. 

“I do hope they leave out the warm milk,” Luna commented when the last departed. “Bloopblips make sweet holiday companions, you know.” 

“Yes, I’ve heard all about them, Luna,” Harry assured her.

Once the lot was properly closed up for the night, all duties complete, Harry asked Luna to join him for drinks, as he was not ready to go home. While stray thoughts of his - whatever he was - came throughout the day, keeping in company and staying busy had kept it from ruling his mind. Harry did not want to think, and he did not want to be upset, he wanted to enjoy the holiday season in the company of his quirky friend over some eggnogs or hot cocoa. 

“No, I’m afraid you’re spoken for, Harry,” Luna said as they stepped out of the lot. 

A familiar red and green sleigh was parked at the road, with two winged horses at its front. Severus stood before it, scowling so menacingly that most passersby scuttled right past him. Only one burly wizard drew his wand (and limped away from the encounter), and two witches fawned over the horses, and were ignored. 

What Harry did not yet know was the utter abasement Severus had suffered to make this night possible. Hagrid had not quite been willing to loan out his sleigh - he had other plans for it, you see - and he’d only really considered once Harry’s name was mentioned. Hagrid, of course, questioned Severus’s intentions but, upon judging them sincere, had burst into tears and _hugged him_. The audacity. “Harry deserves a bit o’ happiness!” Hagrid had sniffed. 

Being that Harry did not yet know of this indignity, he came to a halt and crossed his arms. “No.” 

“Harry, don’t be stubborn,” Severus said waspishly. 

“Me? I’m stubborn?” Harry shouted. 

“Oh dear. This seems personal. I’ll go home now, shall I?” Luna commented. 

“Yes, do,” Severus snapped.

“No, stay, we’ll do drinks!” Harry said. 

Luna smiled at him, and kissed his cheek and squeezed his arm. Then she glided away, more calmly and gracefully than most when faced with a snarling Severus Snape. 

“Harry,” Severus said through gritted teeth, “let’s talk.”

“No.”

“Please.” The word emerged dripping in scorn.

“No. Just - just go. Just leave me alone.”

“Harry, please - “

“No!” Severus reached out for him, but Harry slapped his hand away. “No, you - you absolute git! They were right about you, you know. They were right to be worried.” Though Severus did not reach for him again, his arms hung open at his sides, and Harry couldn’t resist giving his chest a solid push. Then, in a fit of childish fury, dropped to grab fistfuls of snow. He threw hastily crafted snowballs as Severus stumbled back. “You’re mean. Mean! For no bloody reason! You are proud! And arrogant! And stubborn! And impossible! You are nasty, and ugly, and _awful!_ ” Severus glared at him and batted the last snowball out of thin air. 

Harry kicked at the snow, then backed away as Severus advanced on him. “What they don’t know is that you’re also brave, and funny, and just plain clever. They don’t know how thoughtful you are, or how sweet. They don’t know your smile or your laugh, or how bloody crazy I am for you. And me? What do I know, Severus? I don’t even know what this is!” 

“You don’t know what this is?” Severus purred dangerously. Harry’s reflexes kicked in when Severus charged forward and he ducked to one side, but Severus was just as fast and just as clever and followed him. In the blink of an eye, he had thrown Harry over his shoulder and was walking him to the sleigh. 

“You don’t know what we _are?_ ” Severus hissed as he dumped Harry into the sleigh. He harshly threw a thick tartan blanket over him. “You don’t know what you _mean to me?_ ”

Harry scrambled into a proper sitting position and pulled the blanket off of his head, but the sleigh was being pulled away by the horses before he could get his wits about him. Rather than dramatically throwing himself off of the moving sleigh, as he was tempted to do, he slumped down and shrugged as close to the edge and as far from Severus as he could. 

Harry watched the passing shops, and the late night shoppers who pointed at them, shoppers who whispered or oohed and ahhed. Harry smiled and waved at them, if only to irritate Severus, whose glaring did him no good where he sat. 

“This was meant to be romantic, you petulant brat,” Severus snarled. He ducked down to the floorboard to fiddle with a small radio until Christmas music began to play. 

Harry had to fight hard against the urge to smile.

“You abducted me!” he accused instead.

“I did no such thing. You could have escaped, had you truly wanted to.”

“You are impossible!”

“I’ve always been impossible, dear heart,” Severus replied, tone silkily sarcastic. Severus dug into his robes and pulled out a shiny red-wrapped gift. “That was meant to be your Christmas gift. I’ve found another for that day, and I believe you should have this now.” 

Harry sat straighter (he really had been slumped quite low) and hesitantly accepted the parcel. “You - er - you don’t need to do this.”

“Open. It.”

Harry sighed but obediently plucked at the thick green ribbon and red paper. Halfway through unwrapping, when he saw the cover of the book, he nearly threw it into the street. “Are you joking?”

“Harry, open the blasted thing!”

It was a copy of _Child Hero: the Unauthorized Biography of Harry Potter_ . It had been published a year or so after the war, written by Rita Skeeter. Was this meant to be a dig at his ego? Harry shoved the paper to the floor of the sleigh and flipped open the cover. On the title page, Rita Skeeter’s name had been scratched out and the words _Brainless Harpy_ scribbled beneath it. In the top corner he saw _Property of the Half-Blood Prince_ and his pulse picked up its pace. He turned excitedly to Severus whose eyes were dead ahead, though the spot of color in his cheeks gave him away. 

“Is this all of the Prince’s secret thoughts about Harry Potter?” Harry guessed.

“Yes.”

So Harry flipped to random pages and saw familiar handwriting squeezed into the margins. There were corrections made, and though Harry would rather Severus had left Rita’s generous opinion of his height ( _he’s not a hair taller than 5 feet 5 inches),_ he was amused that Severus had surmised his sexuality ( _anyone who thinks he’ll marry the Weasley girl has never seen him ogling Oliver Wood’s backside.)_ Rita had even found a copy of Ginny’s poem she had written him his second year, which had its own page.

 _His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad_ was corrected with multiple options. _They shine like emeralds; intoxicating as absinthe; dangerous as arsenic; fresh and alive as the spring._ Harry blushed bright red and didn’t dare turn his emerald-absinthe-arsenic-spring green eyes to his - whatever Severus was.

 _His hair is as dark as a blackboard_ had the notations of _but not nearly as straight. Dark as jet, as shadow, as the abyss. Wild as the sea, a forest - wild as every thought in his hard head_. “Hey now!” Harry laughed. 

_I wish he was mine, he’s really divine -_ this line had notes in ink darker and fresher, and Harry’s heart skipped a beat when he read, _He is_ _mine_ _._

“That poem was atrocious,” Severus stated.

“She was eleven,” Harry laughed. 

“I could write better than that at eleven,” Severus huffed.

“I believe it.” Book closed and clutched against his chest, Harry scooted over until he was pressed against Severus’s side. “You’re in love with me.”

There was a spasm in Severus’s jaw. The pause was long and deep, but Harry was patient, because he was sure of the answer. Finally, Severus gave a reluctant nod. Harry kissed the corner of his mouth.

“How long?” 

“A while,” Severus replied uncomfortably. “Years.” 

“When this book came out?” Harry asked. Severus shot him a dirty look, so Harry figured the answer was yes. “Did you - did you ask Lavender and Pansy to put us together? So you - so you would, um, have a shot?” 

“No,” Severus sniffed. 

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “You did something, though.”

“Those twits arranged for you to meet with Draco Malfoy. I intervened.” Harry grinned and Severus looked thoroughly disgusted by the sight of it. “I had no intentions of forcing my company on you, but when I saw who they had paired you with…” Severus shook his head. “I never presumed you would ever...but I could not stand idly by and allow Draco Malfoy, or any other man, have you if I could stop it. By then - I was foolish enough to...hope…” 

Harry spared Severus having to lay bare any more confessions by kissing him. Severus clutched Harry against him desperately. The book was squashed between them, as Harry had no desire to let it go anytime soon, and even Severus did not complain about the corners digging into his ribs. 

“I love you, too, you know,” Harry admitted when they broke apart. He held Severus’s face in his hands, his ugly beloved face, and his heart was full to bursting. “I realized when we were fighting. Er, the time before this one.” 

When Severus chuckled, quiet and deep, Harry fell in love with him all over again. And he could not quite decide if the book or that laugh was the better gift.

* * *

The sleigh ride was infinitely more romantic from then on out. The fluffy white snow sparkled in the moon and starlight, and especially so in the colorful lights that hung from each house. They shared their blanket and Harry cuddled close, and never once let go of his gift. 

He held it to his chest when Severus brought him home and walked him to the door. Held it all the tighter when Severus kissed him. Held onto it for courage when he asked, “Do you want to come in?” When Severus moved to kiss him again, Harry lifted one hand to his chest to hold him back. His throat tightened, but he managed the words, “I’ve - I’ve never invited anyone in before.” 

It sounded stupid, he knew. Severus had been inside the house before. The thought briefly occurred to Severus, he saw. Knew it in narrowing of his eyes, the thinning of his mouth. Harry felt before he saw the moment it clicked, felt it in the possessive squeezing of his hips. Saw then in the widening of eyes, and the glint of surprise therein. 

“You’re sure?” Severus asked.

The man before him was so very still and so very tense as he awaited the answer. All it would take was one word from Harry, one answer, and he would fling himself away or clutch him closer. Only Harry had no words to give. Action was easier. Easier to open the door and pull Severus in with a kiss. 

Severus worked magic as he kissed and undressed Harry. Every pillow and blanket was summoned and arranged neatly before the hearth, where fire now bloomed. The discarded clothes folded themselves on the couch, his book flew to the table, and only when he whispered the last spell against Harry’s shoulder did he send his wand to join Harry’s on the mantle. Harry could only cling to him, entranced by the feel of his magic thrumming in the air.

And when Severus made love to him in their nest, every bit as tender and sweet as their first kiss, that felt a lot like magic, too. Magic, and love. 

Magical though it was, and as lovely as his gift and the sleigh ride home, as perfect as these past weeks with Severus had been, the best of it was after, laying in Severus’s arms. Sated, and warm, and loved, and - more than anything else - secure _._

“I figured out what you are,” Harry told him, tracing shapes into his lover’s bare chest.

“Hmm?”

“My...love.” Harry smiled against Severus’s skin as the man snorted. “My _Grinch_.” That one earned him a pinch. “My Prince.” A caress to soothe. “My Severus.” A soft kiss. “My...just mine.”

Severus didn’t say anything aloud. The way he held Harry closer said it all. And though Harry would not tell him, for how embarrassingly cheesy it would sound, this was the greatest gift of them all. And he would want for nothing else Christmas morning, as long as he could wake up just like this.

~Fin~  
  
  



End file.
